Tenkomori: The Homecoming Club Conquers Another World
Chapter 180

Chapter 180. Interlude — Compassion

Far to the west of the northern road where Alter and Sahas visited, a deserted village lay quietly buried on the outskirts of Count Haznick's territory.

Once a rest stop for travelers, carved out of the western forest and frequented by many adventurers and merchants, it had been abandoned two years prior. Now, nature had reclaimed its vigor, and the only remnants of its former liveliness were the moss-covered stone assembly hall and warehouse.

It had only been a few days since people were spotted in this forsaken village.

Normally, only monsters, animals, or the occasional adventurer passed through—yet now, over thirty men had taken up residence.

That night, under the moonlight, they sat around campfires scattered near the assembly hall, laughing and passing around liquor or staring blankly at the flames with sunken eyes.

Had an adventurer noticed them, they would have hidden immediately.

With their dirty clothes and makeshift weapons, their identity was clear: the Davis Bandit Gang.

Bandits were hardly uncommon due to noble conflicts, but the Davis Gang had notable traits.

After setting up a temporary base, they would pillage nearby roads and villages, then move on to another territory by the time the lord received reports. Sometimes, they even crossed territories without causing trouble, making them hard to track—much to the frustration of local lords and adventurer guilds.

Their other defining feature was that most members hailed from the same place:

the very village they now occupied—Davis Village.

Davis Village's misfortune began years before its abandonment.

Crop failures from pests and monster attacks.

Travelers, who once provided temporary income, stopped visiting when even decent meals became scarce.

Trapped in a vicious cycle, the village reached its limit in the autumn two years prior.

The village's reserves were exhausted, and another poor harvest was certain.

As the villagers agonized over how to persuade the tax collector, a merchant named Dinat arrived.

He lamented losing his cargo to monsters, but the villagers had their own woes. Selling their youth to slavers only delayed the inevitable—the village would slowly wither without workers.

Hearing this, Dinat flew into a rage.

"Selling your families to slavers?! What's the point of paying those exorbitant taxes?! It's supposed to protect you from monsters! Without their attacks, you wouldn't be in this mess! I wouldn't have lost my cargo either! This is all the count's negligence!"

Most villagers ignored him, but one by one—especially among the youth—supporters emerged.

They listened only to Dinat, deaf to the village chief or their parents. Of course—they were the ones being sold.

Led by Dinat, the youths killed the visiting tax collector.

There was no turning back now.

Dinat and the youths fled, but to Count Haznick, this was outright rebellion. Soldiers slaughtered most villagers, and survivors were enslaved.

Though their own folly caused this, the youths burned with rage. They vowed revenge on nobles, attacking travelers and pillaging villages.

Those who opposed were purged by friends. Even after learning Dinat was a bandit, even after being branded the Davis Bandit Gang, they didn't stop.

What corrupted them was superiority.

Making the arrogant tax collector beg for his life, forcing adventurers to crawl, stripping greedy merchants bare—

They never knew how exhilarating it was to take. This twisted sense of superiority consumed them.

Within no time, the youths of Davis Village had fallen into banditry.

Yet, their birthplace still stirred something in them.

As they drank stolen liquor by crackling bonfires, trading jabs, their eyes occasionally wandered over the ruins.

They had driven their families to death and continued pillaging since.

Their plight was understandable, but it warranted no defense—no sympathy.

Unaware of the blood on their hands, the bandits reveled on.

A lookout watched them silently.

Like the others, he had pillaged without remorse, but returning home rattled what little conscience he had left.

Staring into the dark ruins, he saw his kind parents and beloved little brothers smiling. Wordlessly, he touched his hidden gold coins.

He'd heard survivors were enslaved. If his family lived somewhere, shouldn't he save them?

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the monsters lurking in the forest—or when their presence suddenly vanished.

What snapped him back was a figure beyond comprehension entering his vision.

A woman in pure white walked forth, her back to the forest's darkness.

Bathed in moonlight, her silver cape and platinum hair shimmered.

A spirit of the moon…?

Uneducated, that was all he could think.

As she approached, he gaped—and the other lookouts did the same.

The woman paid no mind, addressing them with a smile brimming with compassion.

"Are you the Davis Bandit Gang?"

Her voice was as beautiful as her appearance.

Of course—spirits would sound like this, the men thought. But the woman tilted her head slightly, troubled.

"Well, no matter. You're bandits either way."

As she reached for the slender sword at her waist, the lookout still stared, entranced—even as the crimson tip pierced his chest.

◇◇◇◇

At the same time, Dinat and two lieutenants gathered in a storage room within the assembly hall.

A worn side table held liquor bottles, and crates served as chairs as the lieutenants reported.

Their topic: the men's morale.

Dinat, a silver-tongued drifter who had manipulated multiple bandit groups and reduced ordinary villagers to thieves, was no fool. He knew what returning to Davis Village would do to his men.

Yet, he chose to return due to the toll of having no base.

Nomadic bandits were hard to track but couldn't rest properly. Two years of wandering had exhausted his men.

Without change, they'd collapse or rebel.

So, Dinat decided to remind them of their rage against the tax collector and Count Haznick by bringing them home.

Of course, some might grow disloyal, but a speech would handle that.

Stoking the uneducated's fury was trivial—and they were already fallen. The ruins before them proved they had nowhere to return to.

Smirking inwardly, Dinat listened with feigned solemnity, occasionally offering sympathetic looks.

Once the reports ended, a lieutenant spoke up as if remembering something.

"By the way, why'd you pick up that thing?"

"That?"

Dinat ran his fingers over the wand in his hand, recalling the item he'd taken from slavers.

"No particular reason. Just seemed rare. If it's useless, I'll dump it somewhere."

The lieutenants nodded, but Dinat had other plans.

(Even if the men rebel, that thing can handle it. More than a deterrent—it could slaughter them all. The uses are endless.)

As Dinat calmly pondered violent applications, sudden noise outside caught his ear.

At first, he thought it was a fight—but something felt off.

Cutting off his thoughts, he turned his gaze.

"It's unusually loud out there."

"They're just blowing off steam after coming home."

The lieutenant dismissed it, but it was too chaotic.

No clashing steel or soldiers' shouts—had monsters invaded? Dinat headed out with his men.

But the moment he opened the assembly hall's door, he froze at the unexpected scene.

Bandits surrounding a woman in pure white.

While his men were captivated by her beauty, Dinat forced himself to scan the area.

Over ten bodies lay on the grass—each killed by a single stab to the heart.

Recognizing her skill, Dinat barked orders.

"Stay calm, everyone! No matter how strong, she can't dodge a simultaneous attack! Fight like always, and we'll win!"

The bandits, initially overwhelmed, snapped back at his voice.

They'd killed many adventurers before. The same tactics would work now.

With a rallying cry, they attacked from all sides.

Yet, none landed.

Despite striking from every angle, the woman evaded effortlessly—no, it wasn't even evasion.

Her movements were like a choreographed dance, her gaze barely acknowledging their desperate assault.

Dinat couldn't hide his shock.

(What is this woman…? "Strong" doesn't cut it. At least B-rank—no, possibly—)

The thought made him gasp.

A solo female adventurer, mesmerizing beauty, and inhuman strength.

Only one conclusion came to mind. His lips trembled.

"Don't tell me… Compassion?"

As the woman's smile deepened, Dinat staggered back.

His back hit the warehouse—nowhere left to run. He screamed at her.

"Why—why is an A-rank here?! Why take such a cheap job?!"

"Your tone changed. Is this the real you? Well, whatever. To answer—I didn't take any job. Just passing by. Also, your info's outdated. I'm not A-rank. Currently S-rank."

Dinat was beyond shock, just staring blankly at the woman—Compassion, Selpha.

She'd been promoted about a year prior.

Volcanic activity caused an outbreak of fire sprites, Shoomies, in Tarsdoll, leading to a disaster that burned over a thousand to death.

Though low-rank spirits, their numbers—estimated between 100 to 200—and resistance to ordinary weapons made them deadly even to armies or average adventurers.

Selpha was chosen to handle it.

She entered Tarsdoll and annihilated the Shoomies with laughable ease—so much so that no one believed it at first.

But once confirmed, the Adventurer's Guild promoted her to S-rank.

Other A-rank parties could've done it, but none so swiftly. Selpha's strength exceeded A-rank. Moreover, as a solo S-rank, she was the first since the legendary SS-rank, the War God Sleyas.

Dinat couldn't fathom the historic weight of this—nor could his men.

As silence stretched, Dinat finally snapped back.

"Bring it—bring it out! What are you waiting for? Hurry!"

At his sudden order, a lieutenant bolted into the warehouse.

Soon, he returned, desperately dragging a thick chain.

At its end was a beastman monster towering over two meters.

With the head of a lion or tiger and a pitch-black, muscle-packed frame, its presence was overwhelming.

Selpha's eyes sharpened slightly as she looked up at it.

"A new monster. Where'd you find it?"

"Borrowed it from slavers."

Dinat grinned, pointing at Selpha.

"Master's orders! Kill her—kill Compassion!"

The wand transmitted his will to the monster's enslavement collar.

But the monster didn't move.

In the silence, it glanced at Selpha, then down at Dinat.

"I refuse."

The beast's mouth spilled smooth human words.

Selpha was surprised, but Dinat was stunned.

"I-I'm your master?! Obey me!"

He waved the wand frantically, but the monster remained still.

The collar wasn't broken—it tightened in response to disobedience, yet the monster didn't care.

"'Master,' huh? That magic tool. Let's see what happens."

As the monster muttered, Dinat's face exploded.

His headless body crumpled, the wand still clutched in his twitching hand.

The bandits didn't react—even as gore rained down. Their minds had already broken from an S-rank's arrival.

Could that even be called an attack? It was more like swatting a fly.

The monster eyed the flesh on its hand and flicked it away.

"Nothing changed. How dull."

At those words, a lieutenant splattered with gore screamed.

The cry spread instantly, and the bandits scattered like roaches. Some were trampled, others crawled in terror—no trace of banditry left. They were just ordinary villagers now.

Selpha surveyed them with compassionate eyes, then undid the clasp at her chest.

Her silver cape loosened, floating upward.

The cape unraveled into silver threads, weaving countless circles around her like a supreme painting—

But only for a moment. A sudden gust scattered the threads in a swirling expansion.

A few seconds later, the screams ceased.

Only corpses remained.

The bandits who had fled moments earlier now lay dismembered across the grass.

As the silver threads reformed her cape, the monster watched, impressed.

"A woven blade-tool? Interesting. Mithril edges?"

"Mostly. A bit of Lasrus ore mixed in."

The monster nodded, rolling its neck.

"The nuisances are gone. Shall we begin?"

"Oh? You want to fight?"

"I've no obligation to humor you, but you're intriguing."

Selpha tilted her head curiously.

"You're quite articulate."

"I lived among humans for a while."

"Huh. Why?"

"I was curious about your kind."

His purpose was unclear, but Selpha accepted it.

From the moment it was dragged out, she'd wondered. Once, she'd slain a giant wolf called the Dragon-Eater, Felgis. This monster's aura rivaled that.

Restraining such a creature with an enslavement collar should've been impossible—yet it showed no strain despite the collar digging in.

Selpha resumed her usual smile and turned away.

"I'm leaving."

"No fight?"

"I came for bandits. Not monsters."

Unaware of their reversed roles, confusion crossed the beast's face.

But its eyes suddenly narrowed, glaring at Selpha as it touched the collar.

"They called you Compassion. Don't tell me you pity me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Ask your collar. And for the record, 'Compassion' is just what others call me. Born with this face, so they assume I'm full of mercy or spare enemies—how stupid! Every last one of them—"

The topic clearly irked her.

A stream of curses followed as the monster scratched its jaw awkwardly.

When she finally calmed, it studied her, then shook its head.

"Still can't tell. Human faces all look the same."

Selpha blinked—then burst out laughing.

"Right?! You're a monster, after all!"

She doubled over, laughing harder than she had in years.

The monster crossed its arms, watching helplessly.

"Ah… I haven't laughed like this in ages."

Wiping tears, Selpha peered up at it with newfound warmth—lost on the beast.

"Well then, Mr. Monster. If fate allows, let's meet again."

Drained of hostility, the monster simply watched her leave.

As silence reclaimed the ruins, faint rustling gave way to sounds from the warehouse.

Two bandits—lookouts who'd hidden inside during the chaos—peeked out.

They stared at the carnage, stunned.

"What the hell…?"

"Everyone's… dead…?"

Dinat's headless corpse lay nearby, flesh and gore strewn everywhere. Clearly, no one survived.

"L-Let's run! Dinat must've hidden money! You check the assembly hall!"

As one bandit rifled through Dinat's pockets, retrieving a coin-filled pouch, his eyes landed on the wand.

"This'll do! From now on, I'm your master, got it, big guy?!"

He brandished the wand, but the monster just looked bored.

With a faint sigh, it pinched the bandit's head between its fingers.

A scream drew his companion rushing out—

"What're you doing?! Let him go!"

The monster glanced at him, then obliged.

A flick of its wrist sent the bandit crashing into his friend at impossible speed, painting the assembly hall walls red.

Gazing at the dripping gore, the monster looked up at the moon.

"This is humanity. And so was she."

With a quiet murmur, it lumbered away.

That day, the Davis Bandit Gang—once the scourge of the region—was wiped out in their hometown.

Days later, adventurers stumbled upon the scene.

Guild investigators attributed the slaughter to Compassion based on the corpses and eyewitness accounts.

But they never noticed the monster she'd deemed a threat—or that it had left the ruins unharmed.